After a long moment Anna said, “He is in decline. He won’t admit to much pain, but the signs are there.”
“Ulcerations?”
“Not that I could see in his mouth or on his face. Not yet.”
Sophie was so long in trying to organize her thoughts into coherent sentences that she was startled by the cry of the bailiff bringing the room to order and announcing Judge Micah Stewart’s court in session.
The judge came out of the antechamber, his head of snow-white hair standing out not just for its abundance but for the contrast to a mustache and brows that were still a carroty red. He paused before taking his seat, looking over the spectators, nodding to bailiffs and roundsmen and colleagues. Then his gaze came to rest on Anthony Comstock, and even from halfway across the room Sophie saw the disdain darken his expression.
“Mr. Comstock,” Judge Stewart said in a dry voice that still managed to fill the room. “Up to your old tricks, I see.”
? ? ?
IF IT WEREN’T for the seriousness of the situation Anna would have enjoyed watching Judge Stewart sparring with Anthony Comstock. Comstock could not hold his temper or keep his opinions to himself; what he lacked in rational argument he made up for with posturing, thundering rhetoric, and Bible verses, a tactic that was not serving him well.
“You can’t summarily dismiss the charges,” Comstock was saying in a patronizing tone. “The grand jury handed down the indictment, and you must proceed and allow me to prosecute this case.”
Stewart leaned back in his chair. “You might be right.”
Comstock looked genuinely surprised.
“In fact, if there were a legal indictment, you would be right,” the judge went on. “But District Attorney Wilson found insufficient cause to let you bring your complaint before the grand jury, as he told me, just an hour ago. So you snuck behind his back, didn’t you. Crept into the grand jury room like a thief in the night and approached the foreman directly with your complaints.”
Comstock sputtered. “The district attorney was very busy, and I—”
“You took it upon yourself to wheedle an indictment out of the grand jury even after you were told the case wasn’t solid enough to prosecute.”
“Judge Stewart,” Comstock began again. “Have you looked at the material we seized from Dr. Garrison’s office?”
“You ignore my question to ask one of your own?”
“If you have looked at those materials you know that the defendant’s purpose is to distribute—unlawfully distribute—immoral and obscene tracts and implements and thereby to pollute the public and cast the innocent into mortal danger. The first indictment concerns the booklet that Dr. Garrison herself pressed into Inspector Campbell’s hands, one that instructs women how to prevent conception.”
Sophie sat up straighter, craning her neck to catch sight of Comstock where he stood.
“What?” Anna whispered.
“That’s Mr. Campbell there with Comstock. It was his wife I was attending yesterday when you went off to Hoboken.”
Judge Stewart was saying, “As it happens, I have read the pamphlet you mention here. Read it twice, and nowhere did I come across the word conception. Plenty about hygiene and health, but nothing about procreation or conception or anything along those lines.”
“You read the word syringe, did you not?” Comstock demanded.
“Certainly.”
“Well, then.”
“Well, then, what?”
“You know what syringes are used for, sir.”
“I think I do, yes. But maybe it’s time we allowed the defense a word or two. Dr. Garrison?”
Clara raised her voice to be heard clearly. “Female syringes are first and last a therapeutic tool, Your Honor. The syringe is indispensable in the treatment of disease and for applying local remedies to preserve personal health. Syringes are also used in the irrigation and cleaning of wounds and body cavities—”
“Hogwash!”
The judge drew back sharply. “You forget yourself, Comstock. Dr. Garrison, do you have anything to add?”
“No, Your Honor.”
Comstock’s voice rose to an indignant wobble. “But the publications Dr. Garrison distributes so freely are an incentive to crime to girls and young women!”
“I don’t see it.”
“Great evil,” Comstock shouted, “is often very subtle!”
“Too subtle for me,” Judge Stewart said. And to Anna it seemed certain that he was trying not to smile. “I find nothing unlawful here. The first indictment is hereby struck.”
“Your Honor! I am a representative—”
“Mr. Comstock. Listen closely: I do not care to hear about your society, and if you interrupt me again, I will find you in contempt.”
“If you’ll permit me to share Judge Benedict’s rulings—” He put his hand on the papers before him.
Stewart’s expression hardened. “You may not,” he said. “I am not bound by Judge Benedict’s rulings.”
“The Society for the Suppression of Vice—”